


Bluegrass Banjos and Plasma Torpedoes

by Manic_Pixie_Dream_Goblin



Category: Original Work
Genre: Just a blurb of writing tbh, M/M, Scifi shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 15:49:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13193370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manic_Pixie_Dream_Goblin/pseuds/Manic_Pixie_Dream_Goblin
Summary: A pair of alien mercenaries get cornered by the Space Cops. Ships are blown apart, country music is passionately screamed, a butt gets slapped. Just a drabble starring a couple of my OCs that I felt like writing.





	Bluegrass Banjos and Plasma Torpedoes

**Author's Note:**

> If you're curious about the song being sung, that would be this lil cover:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I2BdkzHtBgM

Sirens blared in the cockpit as dozens of lights flared up on the dashboard. Through the canopy, Sylva watched a dozen Terran fighters, gunships, and interceptors dropped out of hyperspace. A pair of corvettes followed close behind, their hulls gleaming in the light of the red dwarf. Over the sound of the warning klaxons, the chime of a comm. message sounded, and a split-second later, the screen lit up. The man on the other end wore a crisp, clean grey uniform too stiff for his pudgy face, and the entire left half of his chest was covered in colorful ribbons and shiny medals. His cold, calculating eyes flickered between Sylva and Kaz.

“This is Captain Lovett of the _TUGN Haymaker._ Shut your engines off and prepare to be boarded,” he said, voice booming and authoritative. 

As a general rule, Sylva had problems with authority, but he also had problems with being turned into ash. He also liked to think he was a fairly pragmatic person, and these odds didn’t look very good. In fact, they looked pretty fucking awful. Bad enough that his heart was pounding and his mouth was hanging open and he was really, truly, genuinely considering a Terran maximum security prison as an actual option. 

In the corner of his eye, he saw movement, and turned his head to see Kaz abruptly take the pilot’s seat. Before Sylva could say anything, and right as the Captain’s eyes widened on the screen, Kaz cut the feed, silenced the sirens, and strapped himself in.

“Are you out of your mind?” Sylva snapped, hurrying to the co-pilot’s seat. He briefly considered shutting the engine down from his own console, right before the power to it cut off. When he glanced up, Kaz was giving him a look that seemed to say “don’t try it.” 

“We both know the answer to that,” he said, and turned his head forward, “Buckle up, sugar.” 

And with that, Kaz thumbed a button on the arm rest. Music filled the cockpit, a cacophony of violin, banjo, and guitar so loud that Sylva reflexively reached up to cover his ears. Not even a second later, the _Last Call_ abruptly lurched downwards, nearly bucking him out of his seat. Shrieking, he held onto the armrests for dear life, while Kaz handled the controls like he was wrestling a bull. The _Last Call_ certainly behaved like a wild animal, lurching and groaning as it was yanked back and forth. 

All around them, space lit up as every Terran ship fired on them. The kinetic shields caught a pretty big chunk of it, but they were moving so quickly and erratically that most of the shots just missed. For a brief, terrifying moment, they leveled out enough somewhere behind the corvettes long enough for Sylva to hurriedly buckle up. In that time, he turned his head to scream at Kaz, but the maniac was staring straight ahead like nothing else in the galaxy existed but himself, the controls, and the space in front of him. 

A missile connected with the shields, knocking them down to a half charge, and a whole new set of sirens rang. Sylva didn’t actually believe in the Night Mistress, but he started praying to her all the same. Beside him, Kaz turned the volume up a couple of notches to drown the sirens out, right as a crooning voice joined the banjos, violins, and guitars. Another shot connected, and the _Last Call_ spun violently. With a raw, broken scream, Sylva squeezed his eyes shut, fully expecting to feel himself engulfed by flames or abruptly surrounded by the cold void of space. Instead, though, he just heard some backmoon hick singing about his life. 

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself staring at one of the corvettes as it hurtled closer and closer. He screamed again, just as Kaz opened up with every single weapon aboard the _Last Call._ Explosions of various sizes and colors lit up across the hull of the corvette, blooming like flowers. Over the racket, Sylva heard singing that definitely didn’t belong to the hillbilly in the song. 

_“Here I am,”_ Kaz sang, _“I’m so young. I know I’ve been bitter, I’ve been jaded, I’m alone.”_

Just before they collided with the corvette, he yanked back on the controls. Their underbelly scraped against the hull anyway, and even more sirens went off. Straight ahead, the bridge came closer and closer. Kaz fired again.

_“Every day, I bite my tongue. If you only knew my mind was full of razors – .”_

The bridge erupted in a massive, multicolored explosion – which Kaz flew them right through. Sylva closed his eyes as the debris crashed down on the canopy. 

_“ – To cut you like a word if only sung,”_ Kaz held the last note. Sylva opened his eyes, just in time to see the mutilated, scorched corpse of a Terran sailor slide away from the canopy. _“This is my song.”_

That question about his sanity seemed a little silly now. 

“Take the guns,” Kaz barked.

Sylva had no time to ask for clarity. His dashboard lit up, and all around them Terran ships swarmed. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he grabbed the controls, took a deep breath, and started firing. The good thing about being surrounded was that he didn’t have to try very hard to hit something, This was what Instructor Vakara would have referred to as a “target-rich environment,” he thought distantly, and blew an interceptor apart with a heavy missile. 

In the corner of his eye, he saw their shields draining more and more, but he was having a hard-enough time shooting with Kaz’s flying, so he focused on that instead. The hillbilly crooning in his ear started in on the chorus again, but this time Kaz only hummed along, thankfully. Sylva locked onto a gunship and opened up with the rotary canons, shredding it into stardust in a matter of seconds. Before he could even release the triggers, they turned to face a trio of fighters, so he just turned the canons on them. 

Another torpedo rocketed past them, Kaz narrowly avoiding it by rolling them to the side. If it wasn’t for his harness, Sylva would have been flung against the bulkhead hard enough to kill him. He was still breathing, though, so he turned his attention on the crippled corvette that nearly put them down and fired a couple torpedoes of his own. They both connected, and an explosion brilliant enough to rival the red dwarf lit up space. Sylva winced, but he didn’t dare close his eyes in case he missed an opportunity. 

With a surprising amount of finesse, Kaz steered them through the molten wreckage of the first corvette, and straight towards the other one. Just as Sylva began to open fire, though, another explosion rocked the _Last Call_. The whole ship shook violently, nearly making him bite his tongue off. When they steadied enough for Sylva to get a look at the dashboard, his heart sank.

“Shields down, left wing’s gone,” he called out.

“Keep shooting,” Kaz shouted, _“Here I am, I’m so young!”_

The corvette fired another plasma lance, but they pitched up just before it hit. Straight ahead, a fighter was turning around to face them. It was barely a pinprick on the screen, and Sylva’s aim felt off with one of the wings missing. Bolts of energy flew past them, narrowly missing the canopy and splashing across the hull. And still they raced towards the fighter. 

“We’re gonna crash,” Sylva heard himself scream.

_“Every day, I bite my tongue!”_

In the moment before they collided, Sylva swore he saw the fighter’s pilot scream through the canopy. Fire bloomed around them and the _Last Call_ shook and rattled. The lights in the cockpit flickered off, then on, and then stayed off. But the engines still ran, and Sylva still had control of the guns. They spun around once more, and a pair of gunships greeted them. 

_“To cut you like a word of only sung!”_

Teeth gritted, Sylva fired a pair of heavy missiles at one of the gunships, then turned both rotary canons on the other. Both gunships blew up milliseconds apart, and Kaz flew them through the debris. On the other side of it, the corvette zoomed closer and closer. In the corner of the dashboard, a comm. screen flickered on, and the wild, panicked face of Captain Lovett greeted them.

“If you don’t cease fire immediately, we’ll be forced to-!” 

_“This is my song,”_ Kaz sang, and cut the channel. 

The chorus kicked up again only moments after it ended, and this time Sylva sang along with the few words he knew. As the chaotic music filled the cockpit, he fired with everything they had left. Bullets and bolts and missiles and torpedoes streaked across the sky, some missing, but most hitting their target head-on. It wasn’t much of a challenge, considering how big that target was becoming. More colorful, burning flowers bloomed all along the corvette, and as they neared, Kaz tilted them up, pointed right at the bridge. 

_“This is my song,”_ he and Sylva sang together, _“This is my song!”_

One of the torpedoes hit the bridge directly, completely erasing it in a flash of green and blue. At the very last second, Kaz spun them out of the way, but they still bounced off a piece of hull and were sent hurtling into space. Only then did Sylva release the controls, and that was just to grip the armrests and hold on for dear life. 

Those banjos and guitars and violins played the hillbilly out, and soon the music ended. A few seconds later, the _Last Stand_ stopped spinning and came to a slow, listless stop. Sylva opened his eyes – after realizing he had them closed – and found himself staring at… Nothing. Just a whole lot of space. 

At first.

Slowly, steadily, the ship spun around, and straight ahead was a junkyard of ruined ships, smoldering wreckage, and broken bodies in stiff, gray uniforms. And not a single functional Terran ship in sight.  
Sylva gawked, and panted, and realized he was shaking in his seat. Beside him, Kaz finally released the controls, exhaled deeply, and relaxed in his chair.

“We… Made it,” Sylva murmured. A smile crept across his face, and he sat up straight. “We fucking made it!” 

“Yeah. Ship’s fucked,” Kaz said. 

Right, yeah. The smile on Sylva’s face died. Kaz leaned forward, pressed a few buttons on the console, and unbuckled himself. On the dashboard, a comm. alert flashed as a message was sent. Inhaling slowly, Kaz stood from his chair. 

“Got a friend on the way. She’ll give us a hand, but it’s gonna be a few hours,” he said.

“And we’re dead in the water until then,” Sylva sighed.

“I don’t know about you, sugar, but that fight has me appreciating life way more,” Kaz said, looking him in the eye, “And a couple of hours is the perfect amount of time to celebrate that.” 

He let the words hang in the air, long enough for Sylva to put together what he meant by the tone and the look in his eyes. The moment he did get it, though, he unbuckled himself in record time and shot to his feet.  


“Hell yeah homie,” he said, hurrying towards the exit. Kaz followed him close behind, and on the way out of the door, he smacked Sylva’s ass hard enough to make him gasp. 

“That’s for calling me crazy,” he said, and Sylva made a promise to himself to call him crazy a lot more often. 

Although, really, they both knew Kaz was fucking nuts.


End file.
